After School Special
by Those Two Winchester Boys
Summary: Sam gets bullied and decides he wants to try and be the normal kid for once, not telling Dean about the beatings he gets from Roddnie. Dean eventually finds out, though. Weechesters. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

**New Story. not a lot of dialogue in this first chapter, but there will be more in the next, i promise. Not sure how many chapters i'm doing, yet. But let me know what you think!**

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**Dean - 17**

**Sam - 13**

"Sammy!"

Sam woke groggily, hearing Dean yelling his name. He knew it was time to get up for school. They'd been at this school 3 weeks, still no call from John on when he'd be back.

"Rise and shine, Sammy." Dean said, coming into the room. He hit his brother's leg softly while walking to his bed, beginning to make the bed.

Sam laughed. "What's gotten into you? Since when do you make your bed?" Sam asked, still giggling.

"Since dad called and said he'd be home soon. Can't wait to get out of this god forsaken place, Sammy." You and me both, Sam thought.

Sam rolled out of bed, doing his morning routine.

He showered, brushed his teeth, and ate breakfast. While Sam was doing his usual thing, Dean cleaned up around the house. Usually, if the house wasn't clean, they'd have to stay a few extra days to clean it. Dean hated the place they were in now, and thought ahead.

"When did dad call?" Sam asked while eating.

"Few minutes before I woke you up. Sounded busy, as usual. Sorry, Sammy." He knew how much Sam wanted to talk to their father.

Sam slipped his shoes on.

They only lived a few blocks down, and Sam hated the bus, so he usually hitched a ride with Dean. Dad, of course, took the Impala. But he left Dean an old junker car, instead.

Sam hopped in the car, waiting for Dean. He was picking at the scab on his arm.

_Roddnie..._Sam thought.

One of the main reasons Sam hated this new school was Roddnie Parker. He was, at least, 200 pounds, two times taller than Sam, and was over all fatter than skinny. Roddnie would pick on Sam for very little things. How he had a "big bad brother", how he had daddy issues, his hair. Roddnie would also hit and kick Sam. Roddnie would call his beatings '**The After School Special**', seeing as he beat on Sam after school.

Roddnie knew many things about the Winchesters from others at the school. That is, except for hunting. Roddnie knew about Sam's mother, but hadn't dared to cross that line. Not yet, anyway.

"Sammy, quit pickin at that, your gonna make it bleed." Dean said.

Sam was pulled out of his thoughts. Dean had gotten into the car and was looking at what Sam was picking. Sam pulled his shirt sleeve down at once.

"What's that from?" Dean asked suspiciously.

"Nothing, just tripped. You know I'm clumsy." Sam said coolly.

_Yeah, you got that one on the head_, Dean thought.

Dean let it go, starting up the truck.

Sam had many more scabs and scars from Roddnie, but they were mostly where he could cover. The ones that he couldn't easily cover were covered by a fine layer of costume store make up. Sam had bought it for a dollar, thinking it as an easy cover up.

Sam sighed, relieved that his brother knew nothing about the beatings he took from Roddnie.

Sam, Dean knew, was picked on often because of his quietness and mysteriousness. Also, Sam was a smart kid, which made him, apparently, a nerd in school. He never had many friends, and was often bullied. Dean, when seeing this happening, would have a go at the bully, trying to ward off the thing that threatened to hurt his little brother.

Sam hated when Dean did this. He knew that Dean cared, but he hated how he couldn't be normal at any school. He would always be the 'freaky kid with a knife collection' or 'the freaky kid with a paranoid and ignorant brother'. Sam wanted nothing but to be normal. Just once.

Wanting normal, Sam hid the scars, bruises, and scabs hidden. He knew that Dean cared, but Sam wanted to be normal. So he kept this from Dean.

Dean backed out of the drive way.

They were headed back to school, a place Sam would love to refer to as hell.


	2. Chapter 2

**I realize that this is also a really short chapter. School final exams started Monday this week and i tried getting this chapter done instead of studying, so, if it's not as good, i'm REALLY sorry. The next chapter, i will try to write and get up tomorrow. But on Friday, i won't be uploading anything do to having a birthday party to go to. Those are just the updates. So, tell me how you think the story is coming along! Thank you so much. :)**

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They pulled up to Warsaw Middle School.

Dean parked swiftly in the student parking lot. He had gotten driving lessons from his father when he was 14 in the Impala and soon after had mastered parking.

Sam sat staring at the school with a scared yet worried face. Usually, Sam got right out when Dean parked the car.

"Sammy?" Dean asked, looking worriedly at Sam.

Sam suddenly jumped as if being pinched.

"Huh? Oh.." He realized they were at the school. He was pulled out of his worries of Roddnie as Dean spoke. He made a grab for his bag that was on the car floor, but Dean stopped him.

"Everything alright?" Dean asked, staring at Sam. Dean had never seen Sam so deep in thought or so jumpy. He tried making eye contact with Sam, knowing how Sam's eyes were when he lied.

Sam kept his eyes averted to the floor. "Yep." Sam said shortly, pulling on his bag again.

Sam exited the car, leaving Dean in the car. Dean stared after his brother, wondering what was wrong with Sam. He sighed, telling himself not to go after Sam, deciding to wait until after school to badger Sam about it.

Dean sighed, shutting off the car. He was, no doubt, worried about Sam. But he would have to keep his worried concealed until they had both gotten home. Dean warily stepped out of the car and looked up at the brick school. He, as much as Sam, hated this school.

Dean was usually more popular than Sam at most schools, but Dean hated Warsaw not only for a decrease in hot chicks and increase of dicks at the school, but because his brother was even more sad every day he came home. He rarely ever smiled since they arrived in Warsaw. And for that main reason, he hated the school.

He made his way into the school, hoping Sam would be ok.

* * *

Sam made his way through the hall and to his locker. He took out his books and everything he would need for the day and loaded them into his locker. Everyone around his locker was already in class. Sam was usually one of the last ones to school, seeing as Dean always let Sam sleep in as long as he could.

"Hey Winchester!" He suddenly heard. He stiffened, knowing that a few lockers down, Roddnie had found him. Sam had his locker moved numerous times, Sam trying to get away from Roddnie. But he would always seem to find Sam's locker location. Probably from some of his friend, Sam thought.

Sam stayed turned, still loading his things into his locker. He heard footsteps coming closer to Sam. Sam stiffened even more as the footsteps stopped right beside him. _Shit_, Sam thought.

"Hey, nerd." Roddnie said. He had a deep voice and smelled like B.O. Sam wrinkled his nose at the smell.

"Hi." Sam said, still not facing Roddnie. He was getting frustrated that his words hadn't yet bothered Sam, in which they usually did.

"What's the nerd up to, today?" Roddnie asked.

"Not much." Sam said. He didn't seem scared of Roddnie, and this bothered Roddnie. But inside, Sam couldn't wait to flee to class. He was hoping Roddnie wouldn't start the abuse early.

"So, where's that 'bad ass' brother of yours? Jail? Just like that old man of yours?" Roddnie wanted to dig deeper, wanting to piss Sam off.

Sam, getting angry from the totally untrue and screwed up words from Roddnie, finally turned, his face calm, showing only a small bit of anger.

"Ever heard of a shower, Roddnie?" He asked, turning back to his locker and digging out what he needed for his first class of the day. Roddnie was angered by this. He hated when people had picked on him. He hated it a lot.

Roddnie almost threw a punch at Sam, but suddenly, the bell rang, and a teacher came out of the classroom, checking the hall for students.

"You two! Yes, you. Get to class." He said to the two boys. Sam reluctantly grabbed his books, closed his locker, and tried to walk past Roddnie to his first class. The teacher was still out and looking at the boys.

Roddnie grabbed a fist full of Sam's clothing.

"After School Special." Roddnie said, smiling.


	3. Chapter 3

**UPDATE. Next chapter won't be up for a while. Birthday part tomorrow, busy Saturday, not sure about Sunday. :( but i promise, ill try to write the chapter and get it up as soon as i can!**

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Sam spent the rest of the day spaced out. He was thinking of how to get home without Roddnie seeing him after school.

Usually, Dean wouldn't drive Sam home. He walked. His brother was held back everyday after school. He usually had detention or was in a closet making out with a hot chick from the school. Sam didn't mind. Not until Roddnie, that is. Sam would walk the long way home, off the route his brother took to get home, so that gave Roddnie more leverage to beat on Sam, seeing as Dean never saw a thing.

Sam sat nervously tapping his foot in math class. He stared at the clock, willing it to go slower, needing more time to think. It was his last class and he had five minutes to think of something.

The teacher droned on about a lesson that Sam had previously already learned, so Sam usually never payed attention. The teacher didn't bother with Sam. He knew the Winchesters were bound to move in the next few days if he heard right about how much they moved around.

Sam chewed on his nails, eyes wide on the clock. He ripped his eyes away from the clock to look around the classroom. Roddnie was usually in this class, making it easy to find Sam. But Roddnie wasn't there.

Sam slowly calmed.

_Maybe he got sick or got in trouble and left today_, Sam thought. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself and tell himself that he was right, that Roddnie left.

Suddenly, the bell rang.

Sam scooped up his books, ran to his locker and packed his things. He needed to get out and get home as soon as he could.

Sam was the first one out the door of the school. He breathed a sigh of relief at the fresh air. He smiled, not seeing Roddnie anywhere. He kept a fast pace, still not wanting to risk the beating.

After 10 minutes of walking and no sight of Roddnie, Sam had their house in his view. He smiled even wider, growing excited as he saw his safe domain.

He quickened his walk to a run. He was almost there, just a few more feet..

_BOOM._

Sam ran into something while running. It had felt like a brick wall.

Wondering, he looked up slowly.

Petrified, he looked up and saw the face of the person he'd been dreading to see all day.

Roddnie.

* * *

Dean sat boredly in class, shooting spit balls at random people. It was his last class of the day and he couldn't wait to leave.

"Mr. Winchester?" his English teacher asked.

He looked up, not bothering to hide the straw and wads of crinkled up paper all over his desk.

"What?" he asked.

"Do you have the answer?" She asked, crossing her arms over her chest. She stared at Dean with hawk eyes.

Dean had been zoning out all class, not paying attention to a thing she had been saying the whole time. He looked up at the ceiling, pretending to have a thinking look on his face.

"4?" he asked.

"No, Dean. 4 is not the answer. I asked, who was Hamlet?" she said, annoyance in her tone.

"Oh, yeah, that." he said laughing.

"Hamlet is that funny lookin dude that could fly on the broomsticks." he said, not having any idea who Hamlet was.

"That's Harry Potter." she said, rolling her eyes.

Dean laughed. "Oh yeah. That kid." he smiled.

"Pay attention next time, Mr. Winchester. And detention, tonight, after school." she said, turning back to the blackboard.

Dean rolled his eyes.

The bell rang.

Dean stayed where he was, knowing he was going to be held in this prison until 5, depending on how long his detention was.

He looked around, bored. He took out a sheet of paper and began doodling on it. He then opened his father's notebook. John rarely left without it, but let Dean look through it while he was gone.

Dean looked at his father's most recent notes about the recent hunt. His father, of course, was on a separate job just outside of the county about 2 hours away. John had given Dean the assignment of the job before he left.

He raised his eyebrows at one of his dad's notes. It read 'dissapearances of the nerds?'.

"What the hell..?" Dean whispered.

There was, of course, a question mark at the end, intending that John didn't fully know himself.

According to John's research, 10 kids in the past 3 years went missing, all of them very intelligent. John didn't think it was a real job, but told Dean to look into it anyway.

Dean read more. He raised his eyebrows again. Apparently, the last kid was found, and according to the kid, he had been bullied and his kidnapper had always told the kid 'After School Special' in school and would be beaten after school by his bully/kidnapper. Yet, they never found out who the bully or kidnapper was.

"Your free to go, Mr. Winchester." Dean looked at the clock, surprised. Only 10 minutes had passed.

He got up without another word. He smiled at his luck at having an impatient English teacher.

He got into the Impala and revved the engine.

_Finally_, Dean thought, heading home.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam stared up at Roddnie.

"R-roddnie..hey.." Sam stuttered in a quiet voice. He was as white as a ghost. This was the moment he'd been dreading all day. And now that no one was around, he knew that no one could save him.

Sam didn't move from the ground, frozen with fright. Roddnie smiled, staring down at Sam.

"Hey Winchester." he said. Sam gulped, still staring at Roddnie while his back was half off the ground, holding himself up with his elbows. Roddnie suddenly grabbed Sam's shirt and picked Sam up off the ground. Suddenly, his bag was being ripped from his back by Roddnie.

"No soft landings." He said, smiling. Sam was confused, then suddenly, Roddnie threw, or rather dropped Sam on his back onto the pavement.

Sam let out a grunt of pain, not giving Roddnie the satisfaction of any tears. He was determined to stay square with Roddnie. He wouldn't cry nor scream. His father had always told him never to show weakness to an opponent.

"Too bad that drunk of a father ain't here to save ya, huh?" Roddnie teased. He laughed.

Sam was pissed. He hated when people taunted him or his father. He thought of what his brother would say.

"Hey jabba the hut, at least my father loves me enough not to let me become a fat ass." Sam said calmly.

Roddnie's laughter haulted altogether. He stared at Sam with daggers.

Sam knew what he'd gotten himself into. He suddenly stopped laughing at him own joke.

Sam suddenly found himself being crushed by Roddnie's weight on top of him. He found it hard to breathe and tried shoving Roddnie off, but his arms were pinned onto his stomach, where Roddnie sat. He wriggled around, trying to get free, but it was no use.

Roddnie smiled. "It's my turn, you little rat." he said in a rough voice.

Roddnie suddenly started punching Sam in the face. At first, it was very light and playful punches, but they got harder and harder every punch. Sam soon found that he had a bloody nose and a very bad migrane.

His vision was getting blurry, and he just wanted to sleep. He was so tired.

"Sammy!"

He suddenly heard tires squealing, then a voice. It was very faint, but all too much familiar. It screamed out Sam's name. He smiled, thinking he was being called by an angel. Then suddenly, the weight on his body was gone. So.._This is what it's like to die_, Sam thought.

Sam then fell unconscious into a deep sleep.

* * *

Dean was headed home, ready to bombard Sam on what was bothering him. He found it odd how Sam didn't call Dean yet, though. Whenever Sam got home, he was ordered to call Dean straight away, letting Dean know where he was. But Dean knew that Sam would've been home by now.

Dean sped up, worrying about his little brother's safety. _Maybe he just stopped at a store or something, maybe he's fine_, Dean thought. But it was very unlike Sam to stop anywhere on the way home.

He took out his phone, dialing the number he had memorized for many years. "C'mon, Sammy, pick up.." he whispered to himself.

It rang. 1..2..3..4..5. Dean hung up, throwing his phone to the ground.

"Damnit, Sammy!" he yelled, worry creeping at his head. He hit the pedal down all the way. He turned the corner where their house was located. He saw what looked like a fat kid and skinny kid, one trying to rape the other or something along those lines. He laughed for a second, but then as he got closer, saw that Sam was being beat up.

Dean stopped the car with a squeal. He jumped out as soon as the car stopped.

"Sammy!" he yelled. His brother was white, covered in blood, and on the edge of unconciousnous.

Roddnie looked up, knowing who's voice it was. "Shit.." he muttered, he suddenly got off of Sam and ran as fast as his legs could carry him.

"Yeah, that's right, you better run, you bastard!" Dean yelled. He was furious with whoever had hurt his brother. He decided he'd let the kid go, seeing as Sam was now unconscious.

Dean sprinted to his brother's side, and bent down and scooped his brother into his arms into a hug. He pulled Sam's head onto his chest.

"It's gonna be ok, Sammy, I'm gonna take care of ya." He said. He took off his father's leather jacket and put it under Sam's head carefully and ran back to the Impala. He knew his dad would not tolerate it if he took Sam to the doctors, so he called his father.

It rang once..twice..three times..four..five. Dean cursed under his breathe.

He ran back to Sam. Sam had come to a little and was groaning in pain. Dean looked at Sam and felt like crying.

He scooped his brother into his arms, pressing the leather jacket on Sam's head to cover his head and carried him to the Impala. Instead of setting Sam in the back, he set him in the passenger seat, scrambling with the keys and he hurried to get home. He finally got the keys in the ignition and pressed the gas down.

_Please be ok, Sammy_, Dean thought.

Dean took his brother's hand for a moment, reassuring not only Sam, but himself that he would be ok.

"Hold in there, Sammy. I gotcha." Dean whispered.

He prayed his words were true.

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**Another chapter complete. Should be one up maybe tomorrow, can't guarantee anything though. No, i do not have this story pre-written, i think along the way, so sorry if it's not it's best. :\ But thank you guys so much for the positive reviews, because reviews are love. And i love you guys. Thanks!**


	5. Chapter 5

**So i realized in Chapters 3 and 4, i said that Dean had the Impala. That is incorrect. JOHN has the Impala due to a recent hunt, and left Dean with an old junker car. I'm really sorry for the mess up.**

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Dean got back to their house in less than a minute. He was hoping his father would be home. He had gotten a text from John during the day saying that he should be home by the time school let out.

He pulled up to the house and scanned the land for the Impala. There was no sign of it anywhere. Dean was angry at his father. Sammy was hurt, he said he'd be here, and he needed to have insurance if he wanted to take Sam to the hospital. Dean had no credit card on him, so it made him even more angry that he couldn't try taking Sam to the hospital.

He scrambled with his keys and got out of the junker car and slammed the door shut harder than he meant. He felt bad because he probably was making Sam's head worse.

He rushed to the passenger door, picked Sam up in his arms and shut the door, carrying Sam into the house. He quickly set Sam down on the couch and inspected him.

He had a very bad gash on the back of his head, probably from hitting his head on the ground while being punched, a dark purple bruise under his right eye, and blood stained to his shirt from his face. His face also had a lot of blood on it, but thankfully had stopped flowing.

He went to the bathroom to get materials he needed to get Sam patched up. He washed Sam's face from the dried blood, first. Sam winced and whimpered slightly in pain as he did so, coming in and out of his conscious state.

"Sorry Sammy..we're almost done, hold in there, pal." He whispered as he wiped the blood away.

After Sam's face was clean, Dean looked at the gash in Sam's head. It no doubt needed stitches. Dean sighed, knowing that he'd be hearing Sam whimper and cry out in pain even more.

He stitched up Sam's head, only getting little whimpers from Sam.

When he was finished, he cleaned up the mess. He threw away the blood covered tissues, wash cloths, and put away the stitching equipment. He then went out to get his phone from the junker car.

"Be right back, Sammy." he said, before exiting.

He opened the door and searched for his phone. It was underneath the pedal, but somehow not broken. Dean shrugged and shut the door and dialed his dad's phone number. Yet again, Dean got no answer.

"Damnit." Dean said under his breathe. Then suddenly, his phone started to ring.

"Dad?" he quickly said, fumbling with the phone before picking it up.

"Hey, Dean. It's Pastor Jim." said a calm and all too familiar voice.

"Oh, hey Jim." he said, sighing. He wasn't upset that it wasn't his dad, he was actually happy that he got to speak to Pastor Jim. He hadn't seen him in quite some time now and missed the man often. He looked at Jim as a grand father type.

"I actually called about your father. I saw him stop at the bar up a ways from where you guys are now. He looked pretty beaten up, but I called to warn you. You know how your dad gets when he's in bars. He gets himself drunk and comes home." said Jim. Dean also knew that to be the truth.

"Thanks, Jim." He said, really meaning it.

"Anytime, Dean. Watch out for yourself, now, and Sammy for that matter, ya hear?" Jim said.

"Yes sir. Always do." He said smiling at Jim's request. He hesitated before saying it, but eventually spit it out.

"I miss you. So does Sammy. Did I ever tell you he started praying?" Dean said. He had caught Sam a few times, praying. Dean wasn't the praying type, but he was happy that Sam believed in something and could at least ALWAYS turn to someone.

"I miss you guys, too. Ah, really? Well, I'm pleased." He said. Dean could just see the smile that lit up on Jim's face. He loved Sammy.

"Yeah. Well, I gotta go in and check up on Sammy." Dean said before he could stop himself.

"Check up on Sam? What happened?" Dean could hear the concern in his voice. Shit, he thought.

Dean knew Jim wouldn't let Dean off with it, so he told him everything that had happened. Jim stayed quiet and intent while listening. After Dean finished there was a slight pause.

"Is he alright?" Jim asked.

"I think so. In a lot of pain, no doubt, but I got him patched up. Are you gonna tell dad?" Dean asked, fright in his voice. Dean knew that if John didn't hear it from Dean, Dean would be in a whole new world of trouble.

"He told me to check in on you guys every so often and tell him everything that you say. I'm going to have to, Dean. You know I can't lie to the man. And he would be fairly mad if you didn't tell me." Jim said. He was right. Dean knew there was no way out of it.

"Alright. Thanks, Jim. A lot." Dean said.

"Any time."

"Bye." Dean said quietly.

"Bye." Jim said, and the line went dead.

Dean hung up, and slowly put the phone in his pocket. He knew how much trouble he was going to be in. He could see his father's face now, torn with rage at Dean. Dean choked back a noise of fear.

Get yourself together, man. Your 17, stop being a pussy and go check up on Sammy, Dean thought to himself.

He headed back inside.

He knew the beating from his father would be unforgettable.

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**AHAHAHA. Cliffy. Might get a new chapter up later. I'll try my best to.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Honestly don't know where this story is going, but going to be planning a kick ass ending. Hopefully..any suggestions/thoughts? **

**P.s. THANK YOU to; LeighAnnWallace for the idea of Pastor Jim not knowing about the beatings.**

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Dean marched back into the house, feeling like he had gone 10 rounds with a brick. He looked up to Pastor Jim and had always trusted him with the truth. But Dean had yet to tell Jim about the multiple beatings Dean and Sam would get. All of them, if not, most, had been inflicted when John was drunk.

Dean grimaced, remembering the beatings he went through from Sam. The pain that his father inflicted was unlike any other he'd felt before. His father, without a doubt, never took it easy on Dean. Dean was a big boy and could handle his own.

Dean shook his head, erasing the memory temporarily. He had to be strong for Sam.

He wouldn't tell Jim. He couldn't. He knew Jim would be furious with him, and also question Dean's hesitation to tell him. In all truth, Dean adored his father. He wanted to be like his father. He followed him around when he was little, trying to follow in his father's footsteps. But the beatings were one thing Dean needed to put away in his head. He knew it was the drink, always the drink. Or at least he told himself.

He looked at Sam, who was sleeping at peace. He watched the steady upward and downward motions of his little brothers chest. That's what I live for. That's what I fight for. That's what I have to protect from dad, Dean thought.

He decided he would let Sam sleep, seeing as he was badly beaten, bruised and still, not much, but a few drops of blood escaping Sam's ears. His heart broke at his brother's beaten and broken body. He sighed, trying to stop the light tears threatening to strangle down his face.

He should've been there for Sam, should've protected him. He knew it, and had failed his little Sammy.

He sighed again, pulling off his father's leather jacket. He hung it on the back of the recliner next to the couch that Sam lay on. He took the remote to the television, turning it on. He turned the volume down to where he could barely make out the sound, but he knew Sam needed rest.

He sat himself on the recliner after pulling it closer to the couch, ensuring to keep his brother in his view. He stretched his legs out on the recliner foot rest, untensing and trying to relax. He stared blankly at the television, not paying attention to anything that was being broadcasted.

After five boring minutes, Dean unlatched his eyes to look at his brother. He had never seen Sammy so still. Usually, Sam was tossing and turning every which way. Dean worried that Sam was too still, but quickly pushed the though away. He's breathing and he's safe, Dean thought.

As he look at his brother's sleeping body next to him, Dean started to doze off into a light nap. About 10 minutes later, Dean had finally, for once in a very long time, settled into a deep sleep.

* * *

Dean woke groggily to the sound of a door slamming. And before he could register anything else in the room, he was being pulled off the recliner by his white shirt and dragged and slammed against the wall. He was let go, sliding down to the floor, his head having been hit on the wall pretty well.

He looked up, his vision blurry from the slumber he had come to from. He forced his eyes shut and opened them. He saw his father's face contorted with rage and anger, probably the worst he'd ever seen his dad's face.

"You were supposed to protect Sammy!" his father bellowed at him. He then knew that Jim had been forced to tell John. He was angry, but then quickly let it go, knowing Jim had to.

"Dad, I-" he started, but his father had grabbed him again and slammed him against the wall once again, this time holding his son to the wall. He groaned in pain as his head had been smacked against the wall, yet again.

"Don't lie to me, boy!" He screamed in Dean's face. Dean had never seen his father so mad. He didn't even bother keep his voice down as to keep Sammy from waking.

Dean glanced at Sammy. He had slightly started to stur in his sleep and was coming to. Dean sent out a quick prayer that Sam would stay in his sleep. But before he could finish his thoughts, he felt a sharp pain in his stomach as his father punched him.

He let out a light groan, trying to keep it quiet while his father threw him to the ground. But it was too late. Sam had woken, but still was confused.

"You disobeyed my orders, boy! That comes with punishment!" His dad said, standing over Dean's body, yelling in Dean's face. Dean could smell the Miller Light on his breathe. The booze, the liquor. It sickened him.

His father backhanded Dean five times before letting Dean rest.

Despite the pain in Dean's head, he turned his head weakly toward his sibling. Sam stood wide-eyed as John smacked his brother.

Dean was about to tell Sammy to go to his room. But before he could, his father was kicking him with his steel-toed boots in the abdomen. Dean couldn't help letting out a scream as he felt the sickening pain writhing inside as he was almost sure that he had broken ribs.

John paid no attention to the smaller boy, staring at what was happening.

"You just wait, boy. You just wait. One day." His father bellowed once again. His father moved away from Dean's writhing and kicking body and he was trying to subside the pain. He marched toward Sam. Sam was shaking while looking at his father. All he could do was stare.

John placed a soft hand on Sam's shoulder. He looked at Sam with blurred eyes. " 'k, Sammy?" he managed to slur. Sam just stared up at his father disbelievingly, but nodded.

"Good." he said, barely audible. He stumbled past Dean into his room, scowling at his oldest son, disappointed.

He then slammed his bedroom door shut so hard than Sam winced at the pain that had suddenly flashed quickly through his head.

Sam then looked down at his brother's shuddering figure. He could hear groans and whimpering coming from him. Sam had never seen Dean cry. Only at their mother's funeral had he seen Dean cry.

Sam wanted to move, but his legs would not carry him. He was numb. Stilled.

"Dean..?" Sam asked lightly, hoping for a response.

His brother's figure stopped shuddering as he heard his little brother saying his name. He needed to be strong. For Sammy.

He turned to Sam, still in pain, but managed "Heya, Sammy." he said, breathing hard.

"Good to see ya awake, huh?" Dean said. He wanted to make sure his brother knew that it would be alright by the humor. But Sam still stood, scared and stilled.

Never had he seen his brother cry like this. Never had he seen his father raise a finger to Dean. It numbed and shocked Sam.

All he could do was let the tears pour down his face.


	7. Chapter 7

**Whew. 2 long hours of ideas and scribbled notes DONE. Anyway, decided to make this chapter a bit longer. Of course, finals next week, but my class trip to Splash Lagoon is tomorrow so i had a lot of time to write this. Anyway, hope you enjoy! WARNING; Angst.**

* * *

Dean watched his brother as tears flowed down his face. "Sammy.." he said. He tried to stand up but a sharp pain coursed through his left side like a bullet had been shot through him.

Dean lied back again, taking his phone out of his pocket and carefully dialing the number he had called earlier. It took 2 rings and he had already picked up.

"Dean, I know you wanna chew me out for telling, but you know I had to." the familiar voice spoke in a rush.

"I need help." Dean whispered, unable to inflict his voice any stronger.

Jim spoke at once. "I'm on my way." said the Pastor.

He'd heard the sound of Dean's voice when he was badly in pain. He had heard it on many occasions when he would have to patch up Dean when he was no more than 13 from hunting. He grabbed his keys and rushed out the door, knowing it'd take him a good 40 minutes to get there.

Dean hung up the phone, already out of breathe from speaking. Sam still stood with tears streaking down his face after Dean had hung up the phone.

Dean looked up at his little brother.

"Sammy." he said once again. He indicated with his hand for Sam to come over to him. It took Sam a minute to wrench his feet from where he stood, but after a minute, Sam was advancing toward Dean slowly.

Sam stood over Dean. He put his hand out for Dean to grab. Dean grabbed Sam's hand.

Sam knew that there was no way he could lift his brother, but he could give it a try, anyway.

"Put your other hand on the table." Sam said, his voice barely audible. Dean willingly took the side of the table and Sam pulled his brothers hand with all his might.

At first, it was no use. The pain in Sam's head had gotten the best of him and he had to take a break before giving it another try.

"Ready, Sammy?" Dean asked.

Sam shook his head. He once again pulled and felt the sharp stabbing pain again, but he ignored it, pulling Dean to his feet with the help of the table and Dean.

Dean smiled. " 'atta boy, Sammy." he said.

Dean felt a hell of a lot better once he was moved and up. He could still feel the pain in his ribs but ignored it.

Sam, as soon as he got Dean standing, rushed to the bathroom.

"Sammy?" he asked, worriedly. He slowly followed Sam into the bathroom, being careful not to bring himself any unwanted pain.

Sam was crouched over the toilet, holding his head. He had just vomited up everything he had eaten for lunch that afternoon.

"Sammy?" Dean asked again.

Sam didn't look up. The pain in his head was excruciating now, causing Sam's vision to become blurred. Tears poured like a waterfall down his face.

Dean went over next to Sam, carefully getting on his knees and forcing Sam to look at him. What Dean saw broke his heart.

Sam's face was very pale, his eyed bloodshot, the tears coming endlessly, and Sam was gripping his head like he would lose it within a second.

"Sammy, c'mon, you gotta stand up. We need to get you lied down." Dean said softly. He put his hand on Sam's shoulder comfortingly. Sam slowly stood, still gripping his head.

"Sammy, your making it worse." Dean said, slowly getting to his feet.

Sam turned around to face Dean. His face beat red, now. Sam suddenly walked over to Dean and wrapped his arms around Dean's waist. Dean winced, but wouldn't dare to let Sam see he was in pain. That would only make things worse.

"Hey, there Sammy, everything's gonna be ok. Jim's on his way, he's gonna patch you and me up, alright?" Dean said, rubbing Sam's back with his hands.

Sam looked up at Dean, fear, sadness, and wonder in his eyes.

"Why did dad hit you?" Sam asked in a tiny voice.

Dean looked at Sam and looked away. This was something that Dean didn't want to share with Sam. Knowing him, Sam would think it was his fault.

"We'll talk about this later, Sammy. Right now, we gotta get you some soft pillows and blankets." Dean said. He guided Sam out of the bathroom and back into the living room. Sam sat on the couch as Dean got him his night things.

"Are you ok?" Sam asked, still fear in his voice.

"Course I am, Sammy." he responded. Dean almost believed himself. Most of the pain Dean had felt had gone away once he moved around, but he could still feel stabs of pain every now and again.

Dean set the pillow on the end of the couch. "Lay down, Sammy, your making your head worse." Dean said. Sam obediently layed his head on the pillow and he felt a little better. The nice coldness of the pillow soothed some of the pain. Dean covered Sam with blankets, tucking Sam in. Dean was about to go into his room when Sam called out in fright.

"Dean!" he yelled. Dean whipped his head around to Sam in a flash and rushed over to Sam. He bent down on his knees next to the couch and eye level with Sam.

"What hurts, Sammy?" He asked with worry in his eyes. He had his hand rested on top of Sam's hand.

Sam looked at Dean and burst into tears.

"Sammy..hey, shh, I'm right here, ok? Does anything hurt?" he asked Sam lightly while rubbing Sam's back again.

Sam pulled back, jamming his fists into his eyes to wipe away the tears. He was 13, he should've been over the tears by now. His father had told him numerous times, before.

"You were about to go to sleep in your room and I just..I didn't want to be alone out here." Sam said. He tried to stifle a sob, but failed.

"Sammy, I was just going to get you another pillow, kiddo. I would never leave you out here alone to sleep. Especially with dad like he is." He said, bringing Sam into a tight hug.

Sam wrapped his arms around Dean's neck tightly, not wanting to let go. Dean rocked Sam back and forth for 10 minutes before Pastor Jim arrived. Sam was finally sleeping peacefully as the familiar vehicle pulled up.

Dean carefully set Sam down, hoping he wouldn't wake. He knew that if Sam woke, he would be in worse pain.

Dean hobbled to the door. He opened it and saw the Pastor's worry stricken face.

"What happened, Dean?" He said, looking at Dean. Dean had a few light cuts on his face, a lightly bruised eye, and looked like he could collapse at any moment. He let the Pastor in and shut the door. The place was also a mess.

"Fell." Dean said, laughing and closing the door. He hoped that he would ask no further questions, but of course, Jim knowing Dean too well, knew he wasn't telling the truth. "Dean, tell me the truth." he pressed, staring into Dean's eyes. Jim could see worry, fear, and hesitance in Dean's eyes.

He hesitated before telling him.

"Dad was drunk. And he stormed in and threw me against the wall and started to hit me and kick me for not protecting Sammy." He looked over at Sam, feeling as if he had, in some way, failed his little brother. "And now he's in bed."

Jim was stunned. Never had he heard of such behavior from John Winchester. He loved his kids more than hunting and life itself and never could have believed he would ever raise a hand to them. Jim took a seat at the table, taking in the information.

Dean saw the surprise on his face. Might as well tell him about the other times, he thought. Dean sat next to the Pastor and told him about the previous beatings he took from his father. He told him about how it was usually all when John was drunk, though.

Jim was appalled. "Why didn't you ever tell me this?" Jim asked, real surprise in his voice. He stared angrily at Dean. Dean looked at the floor then back up at the Pastor then looked back down. "I-I never told you because I was scared. I was scared of what would happen if I told, what he would do. I was scared that maybe he'd beat Sammy. I'm sorry, I wanted to before, but I just was too scared." Dean said, his eyes never leaving the floor. He had never been so honest about his feelings to many people and the Pastor looked at the boy before him, telling himself he was lucky that Dean opened up to him.

The Pastor put his hand on his shoulder after a few seconds. Dean had let a few stray tears run down his face, but quickly wiped the ones that followed. "Dean, I understand. I'm not mad. I just wish you would have told me a little sooner so I could talk some sense into John." He said, a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Thanks for understanding." Dean whispered. He refused to look up, knowing he'd cry even more if he did.

"Anytime, kiddo." He said, patting Dean's back. Dean pulled himself out of the trance he had been in while staring at the floor.

"Can you look at Sammy first real quick?" He and the Pastor stood up. Dean was still worried about how Sam was doing.

"Sure thing, Dean." He said. He checked out Sam's head and his stomach area. There had been light bruising from where the bigger kid had sat on him. Dean wanted so badly to chase the kid down and lay a few punches to the kid, but Sam was hurt and Dean knew he'd have more time.

As Jim was tending to Sam's injuries, Dean turned and went to the window. It was pitch black out and almost 3 in the morning. Dean stared out the window thinking to himself. He couldn't push the thought out of his mind that it was his fault Sammy was hurt. His fault he wasn't there to protect him. He felt like he had failed his brother.

He layed his hands on the window pane and let his head hang.

"Dean." a voice from behind spoke. Dean didn't turn, not wanting to look or speak to anyone. "You should get some sleep, Dean. It's been a rough night for all of us."

Dean picked his head up slowly, nodding curtly, but not moving from the window. He stared out into the night, wishing he had, in some way, saved his brother.

The Pastor stood up after looking at Sam's wounds. "He'll be fine, Dean. Just a few days of bed rest and he should be good to go."

Dean nodded again. He still did not turn. The thought scratched at his brain like a virus. A nasty one.

Dean turned on his heel slowly and hobbled to the chair next to Jim. "Just tell me if I have any broken ribs, the rest I'll deal with." he said in a hoarse whisper. Jim reluctantly felt around Dean's stomach, prodding it carefully. Dean winced a few times, but didn't feel much. Jim knew that if he tried with Dean, it would go in one ear and go out the other.

While Jim was patching Dean up, Dean could only think of the pain that Sam was probably feeling.

_It was all his fault._


	8. Chapter 8

Yes, i am using a raw head and a witch as my creatures being hunted. But i did some late research on raw heads, and i do NOT know if my info is all correct. I don't know if they can really have a vessel, but i figured, a gruesome creature like a raw head, they skin children for a vessel, why not? **A Raw Head is a creature that kidnaps "naughty" children and feeds on them.** They are also referred to as Raw Head and Bloody Bones because it is said that once they feed on the children, they sit atop the bones of the long lost children they've fed on.

Sorry this took so long to get up and sorry its so short. Exams are tomorrow until Friday for three days and i've been busy. Trying to get up as much as possible.

* * *

Roddnie ran through the brush of leaves on the cool Autumn day. He knew that if Dean had even tried at Roddnie, he'd have been caught by now. He didn't stop running until he was back to his home. His cave. He had only been in this particular town for Sam Winchester.

But with Dean around, it would make it a challenge to have Sam to his own. He'd need to get Dean out of the way somehow.

He absently scratched at his, as many hunters would call it, vessel. He did not normally skin his victims, but he had needed a vessel, or else the Winchester boys would instantly know what it was. He hated the vessel, but it was his only hope in getting Sam Winchester.

He smiled a cruel and deafening smile. He knew how he would get Dean out of the way.

* * *

Dean woke drowsily, in much more pain than the night before. He let out a gasp of pain as he straitened up his body. He looked around the room, blood stains still on the floor. His father, of course, would not remember a thing. He decided to leave it.

He looked at Sam, still sound asleep on the couch. Something about Sam was off though. The night before, Sam had his hand in Dean's, Dean not wanting to let Sam's hand go. This morning, Sam's hands were covering his head.

Dean got closer, observing Sam's odd position. He then saw that Sam's breathing was off also. He slowly moved Sam's hands away from his face. "Sammy?" Dean asked quietly.

Sam lay with blood covered hands. His ears had started to gush blood all over again and his nose was bleeding. Dean let go of Sam's hands, not even looking to see if Sam was awake. He rushed back to Sam with a towel and the med kit his father kept.

He pressed the towel to one of Sam's ears and Sam let out a shriek of pain. He started to cry. "Sorry, Sammy." Dean said sympathetically. He winced every time he heard his brother's faint gasps of pain. He hated Sam's pain.

After getting Sam cleaned up, he looked around the room. He was sure that Sam just had bad luck and his wounds had opened up. But part of him knew that something had caused this to happen to Sam.

"Sammy, go in and check on Jim, huh? Go jump on him and get him up." Dean said with a slightly forced smile. Sam returned the smile although his face was streaked with tears. Sam then went into the room to get Jim.

Dean then paced the room, thinking of all the things they'd ever hunted and what could have caused this to happen.

He knew it had to be someone putting a spell on Sam. There was no other possible way for Sam's wounds to open so suddenly.

A Witch, Dean thought. He went through his mental list of creatures he'd known could do spells. He double checked every possible way something could have gone down. It made his fear for his brother thinking that something or someone was after him.

The word finally came to Dean as if someone had whispered it. Coven.

Dean then tore apart the room. He cut open the mattresses, searched under all of the chairs in the room, and tore everything off the walls. Still nothing. He looked at his brothers pillow. It was the only thing he hadn't ripped to shreds. He used his pocket knife and sliced the thick fabric. He dug through the pillow. His hand met a plush furry string bag. It was the size of a lighter.

Son of a bitch, Dean thought. He opened the bag, looking through the contents. It was a hex bag. It mainly consisted of bones and a talisman. He quickly burned the bag before Sam had any other bad luck. Dean was furious. He was trying to think who would do this to his little brother. And who would do it, not just to hurt him, but try and kill him.

He threw away the remaining ashes of the bag. Jim came out of the room, but without Sam. "I put him to bed. He seemed really tired still." he said, crossing the room and standing to face Dean.

Dean turned nodding his head and sat himself on the couch. He was still in awe from the hex bag he had found.

"Dean?" Jim said, pulling Dean out of his thoughts.

Dean looked up, meeting Jim's eyes.

"Anything you'd like to share with me?" he asked politely, staring into Dean's eyes. He knew Jim could see the burning rage and wonder in his eyes and knew it to be no avail to lie.

"Someone sent out a hex bag on Sammy." Dean said quietly, running his hand through his hair.

Jim contemplated this for a moment. "What were the contents of the bag?" Jim asked.

"Some bones. Oh, and some sort of talisman?" Dean said, finding it no use in finding out who had done it.

"And where did you find this?" Jim asked.

"In one of Sam's pillows..why?" Dean asked, looking confused. He raised his eyes to the Pastors.

"Did you happen to give Sam your pillow last night?" Jim asked.

Dean looked at Jim again in confusion. He thought for a moment. He had, in fact, given Sam his pillow. But even if he did, he didn't see how that would effect the hex bag any differently. "Yeah. Why?"

Jim sighed, lowering his eyes to the ground. "Dean, that hex bag was set up for you, not Sam." Jim said shortly. Dean was about to ask what the pastor was talking about but he cut him off. "You see, Dean, with witches, they need a speck of DNA in with that hex bag and they probably took it from that pillow, knowing it was yours, but thinking it had a speck of hair from you on it." Jim said.

Dean stared at the Pastor. "So..your saying..Someone..or something, was trying to kill me?" Dean asked confused. He was relieved yet confused. At least no one's got it out for Sam, Dean thought.

"Yes, that is indeed what I am saying, Dean."


	9. Chapter 9

Wrote this in a rush. sorry if its bad. have a softball game today and leaving soon and i just need to get this story wrapped up soon, because people keep inboxing me to update almost everyday and im trying the best i can with it. thanks for reviewing!

* * *

The next few days were uneventful. Sam had recovered and gone back to school, there was no sign of Roddie, their father took off again. The only things that remained the same were Jim staying with the boys and Dean's suspicion about the coven. He had seen many hex bags placed before on past jobs, but had never had one set on himself. It made him jumpy.

It was a Friday night, almost the weekend. Well, for Dean, it was already the weekend. Dean had ditched from school, yet again. He thought they'd be out of this town by now, but his father had more suspicions on the previous job.

Dean was still fuming at his father's behavior, but John, being drunk, did not know what he had done. He had no recollection. When he woke to Sam bruised and blood stained, his father took Dean outside for another one of their famous talks about protecting Sam. Not noticing a scratch on Dean, his father had beaten Dean there on the sidewalk after their talk. That was the way John Winchester always did punishment.

He would always bring Dean away from Sam where he knew that he wouldn't hear the screams that sometimes managed to escape Dean. He would talk and yell at Dean until he was red in the face then beat him with all the pent up rage he had still had in him from the yelling. Dean mostly never knew to throw anything back at his father. That would just result in further injury and punishment.

Dean winced as he stepped out of the old junker car, his leg worse from his father's sober beating. He stepped out of the car, closing the door. He walked into the house, setting the keys on the table. It had been a long day already and it was only a little after noon. He had already been given several detentions, but didn't care to show up, knowing they'd be outta the shithole in a number of days.

He opened the laptop he had left out from the night's research he had the night before. Sam refused to tell Dean the kids name that had pummeled him to a bloody pulp, but had eventually asked around and found out that the kid's name was Roddnie Parker.

He had also realized that, disbelievingly, he had a sister in Dean's grade, Ashley. She was a blonde, head cheerleader, and had a swim suit model body. She had passed him looks every so often and blew him taunting kisses.

_How can this kid be Jabba the hut and have a sister like that?_ Dean thought. He laughed to himself.

He looked at the clock. Sam wouldn't be home for another 3 hours or so. He searched around the room, checking under everything and tearing slashes into the furniture to make sure there was no hex bags. After an hour, he set down his pocketknife, looking pleased with himself. Last time, it had taken him hours to search everything.

He went back to the laptop. He was still worried about the hex bag, not for himself, but for his brother's safety. Last time, it had been triggered for Dean but had ended up on Sam. He shuddered, thinking about what could happen the next time.

"Damn witches.." he muttered to himself, staring at the info in front of him. He read through dozens of articles but found only one that was useful. It had said that the witches usually wore a vessel, hiding the thousand year horrors of the witched features.

"What the hell is with the old chicks wanting hot bodies?" Dean muttered, shuddering.

Dean set the laptop aside after 2 hours of research. He rubbed his temples, sensing a headache coming. He knew that the witch was after him for something he must have done. And he knew that it had been wearing a meat suit, which would make it even harder to find out who the damned thing was.

He looked at the clock. He had 15 minutes before school let out. Dean grabbed his keys, not wanting Sam walking home, considering the last time. Dean tried to tell himself that Roddnie was gone for good, considering he hadn't been found for almost a week. But he couldn't shake the feeling of the wrongness in everything. Roddnie's sister acted casual with her brother's disappearance and had not said a word about it. He had also saw nothing in the paper about him.

Dean pushed away the thought, heading out the door of the house.

When Dean got to the school, he put the car in park. There was no sign of Sam yet, but knowing Sam, he was probably still getting his crap out of his locker. He looked around the school. He hated the school, he hated the kids, he hated this town. He wanted to just pack himself and his brother and flee.

Five minutes had passed and Dean still saw no sign of Sam.

"Sammy, where the hell are you.." Dean muttered. He was getting impatient. Suddenly, a hand knocked at the window. It was Ashley. Dean smiled at himself. He rolled down his window.

"Hey." Dean said swiftly, with a huge grin. Ashley blushed, knowing how Dean was when he saw a cute girl. "You come back to me for more taunting or what?" He said playfully. She laughed, a whole hearted giggle, really.

"No, but I was wondering if you'd like to go the the movies tonight?" She asked smiling again. Dean suddenly banished his smile.

"I wouldn't like to." He said looking down. Ashley was shocked. She almost was ready to burst into tears, thinking that this would've turned out different.

"I'd love to." Dean said. Ashley looked up to see Dean's perfectly aligned white teeth showing.

"Ok." She said smiling. She took out a piece of paper and scribbled something on it. "Call me tonight and we'll go." She said, handing him the slip of paper. He smiled, nodding.

"Hey, Ashley?" he asked as she was about the turn around.

"Yeah?" She asked.

"You seen my little brother anywhere? Brown hair, not quite shoulder length, pain in the ass." Dean smiled. She giggled again.

"I saw him a little while ago, yeah. He was talking to one of his friends about going to his house today after school." She said.

_Sammy finally made a friend_, Dean thought. He sat there and smiled out into the open space for a moment before snapping back to reality.

"Alright, thanks." He said, smiling up at her. "See ya tonight." He called after her. She waved as she walked away and headed toward her own vehicle.

Score, Dean thought. He folded the paper into his pocket and smiled.

He had a date, Sammy had a friend.

He was happy to be in this town for once.

He put the worries behind him and drove home to finish off what he had left of his pie from the previous night.

_Ah, ya can't go wrong with pie_, Dean thought.


	10. Chapter 10

**FINALS ARE FINISHED. Would've updated last night, but had an end of the year bonfire i went to. And earlier today, a softball game. My last days of school are Monday & Tuesday and i plan to finish this hopefully before that. I'm starting on a new story, but won't post any of it until i'm finished with this, so i hope i can get this finished soon! **

* * *

It was slowly making it's way to 7 when Dean started to worry about Sam. He usually would have called by now, but Dean thought he needed his space from his family. But his brother had always called within an hour. He pulled out his phone and dialed Sam's number.

After a few rings, the ringing stopped. Dean could hear faint whimpers. He knew at once that it was Sammy.

"Sammy? Where are you, what happened?" He said in a rushed tone. The whimpers didn't stop.

"Sammy!" He yelled.

* * *

Sam woke groggily. His muscles were aching at every movement he had attempted to make. He opened his eyes slowly but saw nothing. He rubbed the tiredness from his eyes and squinted as he opened them again. Still nothing. He felt the area around him.

He noticed that he could barely move his feet or his arms more than a few feet and he was painfully cramped into the tight space he was in. He reached his arm out hesitantly and after a few inches, brushed the smooth surface of metal. He ran his fingers along it, trying to make sense of where he was.

He tried to stretch out his legs, but found he could only move them a few inches before hitting what felt like another metallic surface. Sam started to panic. Not only was he scared of not knowing what his whereabouts were, but he was also claustrophobic. He took a few breaths, trying to calm himself before hyperventilation started. He closed his eyes and put his head in between his knees.

After a few deep breaths, he had calmed himself. He slowly opened his eyes once again to darkness. He reached both hands out and observed the area. Both hands were touching metallic surfaces after only a few inches of moving them sideways. He pushed on the metal he was facing slowly. It didn't budge. He tried the other side and it, too wouldn't budge.

He started to panic again, knowing he was not getting out any time soon, trapped in the tight, cold, and cramped space. He buried his face into his knees and wrapped his arms around his knees. He tried breathing again slowly, trying not to give in to his claustrophobia.

After a few minutes, he started to cry, knowing that he was trapped, forever in the cramped and cold space. He knew he was going to die.

After a few minutes of crying, he heard a faint voice calling out to him. He could hear it. _Sammy!_ The voice rang. He recognized the voice at once.

_Dean._

"Dean!" he screamed. He had thought that Dean was outside of his prison, looking for him. He called out even louder when he heard no response at once.

"Sammy, where are you?" Dean screamed. Sam searched for the direction of the voice, but it sounded too far away for it to be outside of his metallic prison. Also, if Dean was really outside of it, there was no way he could have screamed through metal. He suddenly dug into his pocket, knowing at once where the voice was coming from.

He took out his phone urgently talking into it. "Dean?" he yelled into it. Sam couldn't believe he hadn't felt the vibration of the phone in his pocket.

"Little quieter please, Sammy?" his brother asked in a mocking tone. He quickly dropped his joke. "Sammy, where the hell are you?" He asked. Dean was now trying to control his worry by gripping the chair he was next to, trying to calm himself down for his brother's sake. _Please, Sammy, be ok_, he prayed.

Sam could not speak for a moment, trying to think of an answer. "Dean, I-" he started. He did not finish. He burst into tears the second he had said Dean's name. Dean heard Sam's shrill cries. He made his grip on the chair harder, his knuckles turning white.

"Sammy, calm down. You have to calm down, Sam." Dean spoke into the phone softly. He didn't want to yell at him. It would only make him even more scared.

Sam obeyed his brother, taking deep breaths, attempting to calm himself. A few seconds after, he spoke into the phone. "I don't know...I'm...I'm trapped in this metal thing and I…it's cold and it hurts and.." Sam couldn't finish. He choked back his cries of horror.

Dean heard the scared tone in Sam's voice. Dean's hands was not aching, but he still held onto the chair for support. He knew his brother had been claustrophobic since the hunt he had been locked in a trunk for two hours by a spirit. He heard Sam's screams and punches to the trunk in his ears. He forced himself to focus.

"What's the last thing you remember, Sam?" Dean asked urgently.

Sam stifled the cries, trying to be strong for his brother. He hated his brother seeing or hearing his weakness.

Sam wracked his brain for the memory of before he turned up in the mysterious metal prison. _Roddnie_, he thought. "I was walking into the bathroom and Roddnie was there and he punched me and…I blacked out." Sam said, reminiscing the memory. He had still had a faint pounding in his ears.

"Do you know where this kid lives?" Dean asked.

"Yeah. Two houses across the block from our house." Sam said. He had seen Roddnie walk home after beating on Sam with his friends.

Dean grabbed his keys and rushed out the door, getting into the junker car that their father left them.

"Hold in, there, Sammy, I'm coming. If your really at this kid's house, that is." Dean said.

* * *

Sam let his head fall back against the cold metal. It was reliving. The coldness on his head had simmered the sweat and heat from his head. He took deep breaths, forgetting that his brother was still on the phone.

Dean hadn't heard Sam speak for a few minutes and he got worried. He knew well enough not to let Sam off the phone with him. Sam would have a panic attack. "Sammy, you still with me?" Dean asked, flooring the gad pedal. He only had one house to go.

Sam lifted his head, having drifted off into a semi-sleep. "Yeah." Sam croaked into the phone.

Dean nodded in relief.

He put the car into park as he arrived at where Sam had said Roddnie lived. He was confused. All he saw was a garage. "Sammy, your sure about this kid's place?" He asked into the phone.

"Yes." Sam croaked again. Dean heart broke at how weak his brother's voice sounded.

"Alright, Sammy." he said lightly.

He took out his pistol with the rock salt loaded into it. He had always kept it under the seat for precaution.

_ If this kid's living arrangements are as odd as himself, I've got myself a hunt_, Dean thought.

He moved his way to the door leading to inside of the garage. He tightened his grip on the pistol.

"I'm comin, Sammy." he whispered.


	11. Chapter 11

Sam felt weak as minutes passed and still heard nothing from Dean. The line had already dropped dead and he knew Dean was no longer on the other end of the phone. He slowly drifted into a light sleep. Only 5 minutes, he thought. He couldn't quit now. Not when Dean relied on him to tell him where he was.

_Just a short nap is all I need_, Sam thought. He let his head fall back onto the cold metal and fell into a deep sleep. Claustrophobia had finally gotten the best of him.

* * *

Dean examined the shackled garage. It didn't look much like a garage, more like a tiny hut. He tried the door, but it was locked. He stepped back and kicked at the door, the door breaking down like it was made of twigs.

He wasted no time, jumping over the fallen door, racing into the room. He stopped dead in his tracks, observing the gruesome scene before him.

There were children strung all around him, tied up to wooden planks like puppets and hung by their hands with ropes leading toward the ceiling of the garage-like hut. He took out his pen-thick flashlight and shone it on the planks and the children. Their skin was rotted and swollen.

He wrapped his arm around his nose, trying to breathe in the fresh smell of their father's hand-me-down leather jacket as he smelled rotting and deteriorated flesh. It made him physically sick to the point that he had started to gag. He let the sickness through and threw up a few times before composing himself. After shaking it off, instant thought creeping into his head.

_Sammy_, he thought. He uncovered his nose, breathing in the rotting flesh again, but ignoring it. He shone his flashlight around at the children, looking for his little brother or any surviving children at the scene. He had traced his path twice around everything when he gave up and accepted that his brother was not there and there were no children that had survived this gruesome scene.

He shot his flashlight through the room once more. It stopped at a hole in the ground. Bingo, Dean thought. He rushed over to the hole, more like a square, in the ground and shone his flashlight down into it. It revealed wooden steps leading down to some sort of cellar. Dean shrugged and wasting no time, threw himself as fast as he could down the steps.

It took him a few minutes before he reached solid ground. He was thankful for the revolting smell of rotting flesh dissolving after the first few steps. He now breathed in what smelled like fresh air. It was also very cold.

Dean squinted, but it was pitch black and he could not see a thing. He took out his flashlight again, shining the light throughout the area. It was a very small room, with an exception of a cave-like opening in the west side of the room.

He shot his light around, looking for some sort of metal object that was big enough to fit a 13 year old. He found it within seconds, the light glistening of the metal as his flashlight passed it. He sped toward it, relief flooding through him.

Dean observed the metal door, as big as a dumbwaiter opening. He searched for the handle in the darkness, but to his astonishment, found no handle.

"Looking for something?" A familiar voice spoke from behind him.

_Ashley_, Dean thought. He tensed as he stood up and slowly turned.

"What are you?" he asked instantly. He knew that he was a fool to have trusted Ashley. He wondered how he could have been so easy-going until he had started worrying hours later.

_The coven. The hex bag on Sammy_, he thought.

_Witch._

"You're a witch, aren't you? Well, you sly son of a bitch.." He said.

"Oh, you don't kiss your mommy with that mouth, now do you, Dean? Ah, it's about time you realized. Put that first charm on you without even thinking." She said as she emerged toward him from the cave.

"You obi-waned me with some kind of love crap at the school, didn't you?" He asked, remembering how he was so ecstatic to believe that Sam had really gone off without telling Dean.

She advanced on him, putting her lips to Dean's ear. Dean stood still. "You're a fast learner, aren't you, now? Not as fast as your little Sammy, though." She smiled and retreated two feet. She smiled evilly.

"Just give me my brother." He barked. He couldn't help the anger that was resurfacing.

She tsk-tsk'd at Dean.

"Afraid I can't, sugar. I'm not the one who makes the orders, I take them." She said lightly.

"Oh yeah. Then who orders them?" Dean asked.

"What orders them?" he rephrased.

"Roddnie." She said simply. She looked around as if bored by their current situation.

"What the hell is this kid?" He asked, anger resurfacing.

"Raw head." She replied, again as if bored.

"Not long before your brother is puppy chow, Dean." She smiled.

Dean was furious. He had done research for his father on raw head's once. They fed on children that were supposedly naughty. The fact that something had wanted Sam as a midnight snack angered him.

"And what orders did he give you?" He asked.

"To take out little Sammy Winchester's protector. His big brother. Dean." She said. She smiled wickedly again at Dean.

Dean was suddenly happy. _At least nothing was really after Sam with the hex bag_, he thought.

"Sorry, sweetheart, but I ain't dyin'. Not tonight." He said, with a simple smile. He remained calm as he always had on previous hunts when they could be in danger.

"And what possibly makes you believe you could stop me?" She asked, still the same silkiness in her voice.

"The remaining thought that this cannibal is gonna gnaw on my brother like a piece of meat. And the fact that my father and I have been hunting long enough to know how to etch enchantments like crosses on every bullet we have" He said, his hand gripping the gun firmly, now pointing it at Ashley.

The witch stopped smiling, and suddenly, her face went pale. "Have fun in hell." Were his last words.

The witch made a daring run for it, trying to dodge the oncoming bullet but failed at her attempt, the bullet hitting her square in the chest. She dropped instantly, blood pouring from her chest. Dean strutted toward the witch, examining her closely, not wanting to take any chances at the bitch being alive.

He turned her body to look at his work at shooting her in the chest. He nodded his head in satisfaction. "That extra training time came in handy, I guess. Thank god dad etched crosses on these bullets" he muttered to himself.

_Now to find the bitch who wants to gnaw on my brother_, Dean thought.


	12. Chapter 12

**Longer chapter than usual, but hope you guys enjoy it!**

* * *

Dean examined the room again closely. He was staring into blackness once again, and realizing this, took out his flashlight once again. He took another, more close look around the room. He saw what was a tiny camera I the far corner on the ceiling. _He likes to observe his own sick little games_, he thought. He then saw the metal door. He focused it on the metal door. He tried pushing it in, but it didn't budge.

_I'm gonna have to break this son of a bitch_, Dean thought.

Dean climbed back up to the top floor of the hut-like place. He ran out the door, looking for a crowbar of some sort to use to jam open the metal door. He knew Sam had already fainted, seeing as there was no longer an answer on the other end when he had talked into the phone. He knew he had to get his brother out of their before hunting the raw head.

He opened the door of the old junker car, looking for a crowbar. He knew he had kept one in case a spirit apparition took place. It was the only long piece of iron he could get in this town. He stuck his hand under the driver's seat and felt the cool metal of the crow bar. He sighed in relief as his fingers tightened around it, bringing it around to himself.

Without shutting the door, he ran back into the garage, throwing himself down the steps. He felt pain course through his feet as it hit the concrete, but he ignored it, knowing his brother needed to be freed.

As soon as his feet hit the ground, he ran over to the metal door. He bent down onto his knees. He carefully wedged the flat edge of the crowbar into the crack of the metal. He started to push on the door, forcing it open slowly, not knowing how close Sam was to the metal, not wanting to hurt his brother. The metal made a loud creaking noise, and Dean wondered now about the raw head.

He had the metal open far enough that he could see Sam's familiar small figure and mop of brown hair. He sighed in relief that he had found his brother. _Safe and sound_, he thought. He tore the rest of the metal off the frame of the concrete, throwing the metal across the room once it was detached.

He looked at Sam, his face pale as snow, sunken cheeks, sweat beading from his head, his position of what looked like agonizing being in the small place for hours. He wasted no time, grabbing his brother by the waste and carefully pulling Sam out of the hole. Sam was still sleeping, but stirred.

Dean crushed his brother to his chest, pulling Sam's head into his chest, not wanting to let him go. He felt Sam's tiny body in his hands, realizing that if he had believed Ashley, that he would never feel this again, his brother's fragile and small body in his hands.

Sam's groan pulled Dean out of his dark thoughts. "Sammy?" Dean asked, cupping Sam's head with his hands, trying to look into his brother's eyes.

Sam opened his eyes slowly, but shut them immediately, feeling the searing pain coming back to his head. He brought his hands to his head, ignoring Dean's soft caress and pressing his hands over his ears as if some sound was making his head ache and he was aiming to drown it out.

Dean looked instantly worried, but didn't let go of Sam's face.

"Sammy, what is it?" Dean asked urgently, shaking his brother.

Sam let out a shriek of pain as his brother's slightest movement made the pounding in his head worse. The pain masked his voice as he tried to speak to his brother. He tried to speak, but his throat was too dry and he couldn't think through the pounding in his head.

Dean pressed his brother's head to his chest once again, wincing in guilt as his brother let out another shriek of pain, and ran to the steps, attempting to get Sam home. But before he reached the steps, out of nowhere, the air was blown from his lungs, and he was flung across the room. He hit the ground with a loud smack.

He looked up slowly, his back locked up and in pain. An ugly-looking figure was crouching over something…

"GET THE HELL OFF OF MY BROTHER, YOU BASTARD!" Dean screamed and launched up from the ground.

Just in time, the ugly shadow was on his feet and got out of the way from Dean's fist. Dean stopped himself before almost running into Sam's body, but he couldn't avert his eyes down, now wanting to see if his brother was dead or alive. The thing had been on top of Sam's body long enough to kill him. Dean knew this, but couldn't look until he killed the thing. Not until he got revenge.

The thing looked at Dean with intimidating eyes and started to run toward Dean, eyes wide with lust and mouth open. Dean side stepped easily, the thing running past him, but instantly stopping. Dean was confused.

_This bitch wants a bite of me_, he thought.

"Yeah, I know I look good, but c'mon, you really wanna piece of this?" Dean asked, trying to toy with the creature. He lunged at Dean once again, but missed. Dean then booked it toward the cave. _There's a camera, this son of a bitch has to have a plug for his tv somewhere, all I need is water,_ he thought. He heard the creature lurking after him.

Dean ran for what he thought was five minutes before he reached another room. It was dimly lit, the walls dripping from what looked like bad plumbing and a television in the far corner. _This one isn't very smart, surrounding himself with his own death_, Dean thought. There was also a lever in the corner by the television.

He knew it wouldn't hurt to take a shot at the lever, hoping it would spray water. He waited patiently for the raw head to arrive in the room. When he finally did, Dean laughed a shrill and high laugh, trying to get the raw head's attention.

"Look's like someone needs to cut down on the meat, huh?" He asked, smiling. He was standing in front of the television, his arms crossed around his chest. The raw head got a fiery wild look in his eyes and ran at Dean once again with barred teeth.

When the raw head was a foot away, he stepped aside and let the creature collide into the tv set, running toward the lever. He yanked the lever down as hard as he could, and to his delight, water poured from the ceiling like a down pour of rain. Dean watched as the raw head was electrified with his head into the tv where the glass used to be, rather than strewn across the floor.

"Karma's a bitch." Dean laughed. He waited until the sparks stopped flying from the tv, looking at the raw head for any sign of life left in him. He was still. Dean knew the creature was dead.

He started on his way back to the mouth of the cave as he winced in pain when he made a move with his arm to shut off the lever. He looked at his arm.

His arm was covered in blood, glass sticking out from just above his wrist. He couldn't believe he hadn't felt anything before when it had happened. He knew better than to take it out now, but wait until he was back at home and had Sam safe.

_I'm coming, Sammy_, Dean thought.

* * *

Sam came to when he felt someone shaking him awake. He looked up, his vision blurred and his head still pounding as badly as before. "Sammy? Sammy? Can you hear me?" The familiar voice said. He clasped his eyes shut, trying to concentrate on the voice and the face.

He opened his eyes again and looked up into his father's face. "Dad?" he uttered softly. His dad smiled with tears running down his face.

"Oh, Sammy, thank god." He said. He hugged Sam to his chest, and Sam cried out in pain once again, the pounding in his head getting worse by the minute. John carefully looked at Sam. He felt his son's head, his head burning with fever.

Sam tried to sit up, successfully getting all the way up. John backed away from his son a little, giving him room to breathe.

"Sammy? Do you know where Dean is?" John asked. The though of Dean brought Sam back to his senses. He remembered his brother's voice coming from the cave and he glanced over at the cave. John followed Sam's gaze and nodded, knowing what Sam meant.

"Do you want me to carry you and take you with or will you be safe here until I come back?" John asked Sam. He didn't want to leave his son alone, but he trusted Sam with what he wanted to do. Sam could barely move, so he gave the answer that was best for him. "Stay here.." he uttered. He crawled over to the wall and layed his head on the wall, feeling the cool sensation that ran through him from the cold cement.

John looked at his son and saw the relief as Sam felt the cool wall. He knew Sam would hold out and be safe.

"Be back, Sammy." He said.

He started at the cave, running in and sprinting, determined on finding his elder son. "Dean!" he screamed. He waited a minute and got no response. He kept running. After 3 minutes, he slowed to a walk. He was about to yell out for his son again when he heard footsteps. "Dean." he whispered and started running again.

_Dean's safe, alive, well_, was all John could think as he ran.

* * *

Dean heard a faint cry for his name. _Sam_, he thought. It was the only person in there with him. He booked it, running as hard as he could manage. After two minutes of sprinting, his feet gave out. He fell to the floor, gasping for breathe. His lungs were in pain as well as his arm.

His arm was gushing blood once again, and all Dean had felt was excruciating pain shooting into his arms like spikes._ C'mon, Dean, we gotta keep going, do it for Sammy_, he thought. He got up, sucking in a breathe before setting off again, this time walking. He held his arm, staggering forward.

After another minute, he heard hurried approaching footsteps, he leaned against the wall, his breathe coming in and out faster. He was terrified, thinking it was another raw head that had come to finish him off.

His breathe became even louder to the point where he could no longer hear the footsteps. He leaned against the wall, and slipped down to the floor, laying his head against the cool cement. _This is it_, he thought, tears strolling down his eyes. _I love you, Sammy_, he thought.

Suddenly, he heard his name next to him. "Dean?" a familiar voice said.

"Dad..?" Dean asked in astonishment.

Dean reached into his pocket, searching for the flashlight. He quickly turned it on.

He saw his dad, drenched In sweat with worried eyes staring down at Dean. Dean stood quickly. He hated when his father saw him crying or when he was being weak.

His father pulled Dean into a tight hug. Dean couldn't help it. He let out a whimper as he started to cry once again. "It's ok, Dean." his father said, patting his son's back. He hadn't treated his son so gently since he was a kid. Dean quickly wiped away the tears and pulled back from the hug.

"How did you-" Dean started but his father cut him off. "Bobby told me that he saw the old car that I rented down at this house when I got back from the hunt and he said he hadn't heard from you guys, so I checked it out." His father said.

"Is Sammy ok?" He suddenly remembered his little brother's pain and agony from before.

"Dean, he's fine. He said he'd wait while I found you." Dean took a deep breathe and let it out, trying to calm himself down.

"What the hell happened, Dean?" John asked.

They set off on a slow walk again while Dean told John the events of the past few days.


	13. Chapter 13

**Might do an epilogue. Let me know if you want one, and i'll get one up tomorrow. :) Hope you liked the story, guys!**

* * *

Dean and John had finally gotten through the long talk about what had gone on while John was gone. John was awe struck at how bad of a beating was described that the raw head inflicted on Sam. At once, he knew why his son had been so mad the past few days whenever John had contacted him.

They arrived back at the mouth of the cave. Dean looked around for Sam and spotted him. Sam was propped up against the wall, eyes closed, cheeks sunken, and as pale as snow. It broke his heart to see his baby brother is such bad condition.

John layed a reassuring hand on Dean's shoulder as Dean stared at his brother from across the room, feeling nothing but guilt. _How could he let this happen? How could he be so eager to believe a complete and utter stranger about Sam's whereabouts? Why Sam?_ The thoughts made Dean's head swirl.

"Dean, he's fine. He's asleep, at least he's getting some rest." John squeezed his son's shoulder reassuringly.

"Ok." Dean barely managed to utter. He hated himself. He hated how he had believed a stranger. He hated how he had let his brother be put through hell while he was all honky-dory about having a date. It made him sick to his stomach.

He ordered his feet to move and he walked toward his brother. He bent down and picked Sam up, and pressed Sam's head into his shoulder blade, keeping one arm wrapped around his brother's body, clinging Sam to himself, determined not to let anything more happen to him.

John watched as Dean pressed Sam's fragile body to himself and smiled. He was happy that they had gotten along. He feared that the dangers and suspense of hunting would get between them, but was glad to see they were still as close.

"Let's get you two outta here, kiddo." John said and walked to the ladder and climbed up it. Dean nodded, his arms still wrapped around Sam's body. Dean climbed up the ladder with only one hand, keeping Sam clung to him as he did. Dean's eyes were cold as shards and his face stained with blood.

"Dean, what the hell happened to your arm?" John asked, suddenly seeing the still-running blood coming from Dean's arm. Dean realized the pain sinking back into his arm as John reminded him of his injury.

"Just had a little slip with the tv. I'm fine." Dean muttered, getting into the Impala once outside. He still had Sam in his arms and would not let go. John saw the deadly look in Dean's eyes and jumped into the Impala. This is going to be a long night, John thought.

* * *

Dean winced in pain as his father sewed his arm back together, the skin pulling tightly with each thread. "Almost finished, Dean-o." He said, soothingly. He hadn't used the nickname in years but thought it was time that Dean needed some sort of comfort.

Dean stared out the window, the night sky glistening with stars. The deadly look was still in his eyes and his father wrapped his arm up in gauze. Dean was about to stand and proceed to bed but his father grabbed his hand and forced Dean to sit once again.

Dean sighed and turned his glare at his father.

"This wasn't your fault." John said simply, staring into his son's eyes.

He saw his eyes flit with emotion once the words sunk in.

"But I believed a complete stranger, dad. It was my fault, I shoulda called Sammy in the first place and I-" Dean was cut off by his father.

"And do you realize that witches cast dark magic spells for that sort of thing? Dean, she was a witch and had control over you with some sort of spell. You know that. You know that if you weren't under one, you would have called Sam straight away." John replied, harsher than meant. But it had to be said. He hated when Dean blamed himself for Sam's condition after a hunt.

Dean's eyes filled with tears but he blinked them away.

"Ok." He replied in a whisper. John stood and pulled Dean into a hug, rubbing Dean's back soothingly. Chick flick, John thought. But he knew Dean needed comfort and reassurance. He knew he needed to be loved in an intimate and physical form.

Dean hugged his father back weakly, leaning into his father's arms slightly. Dean pulled back and looked into his father's eyes. "Thanks." he said.

"Anytime, Dean." He said, smiling. Dean forced a small smile before turning to go to check on Sam.

"Night, dad." Dean said.

"night, kiddo." John said back.

* * *

Dean went into his brother's room, closing the door behind him. He looked at his brother. His face a little more full, no more dirt on his face, the black bags under his eyes gone, the pale look lingering.

This is what I live for, he thought.

Dean went over to Sam's desk, pulled the chair from under the desk and sat it beside Sam's bed. Sitting in it, Dean took his little brother's hand. He got up from the chair and bent over Sam's small body. He brushed the brown hair from his forehead and kissed his brother on the forehead lightly.

"Night, Sammy.." he whispered. He settled himself back into the chair, taking his brother's hand in his once again.

_Maybe things will work they're way back out_, Dean thought as he lingered in and out of drowsiness.

He shut off the light, the room fading to blackness.

_Just Maybe_.

**END.**


	14. Epilogue

_Wendigo_. Dean typed into the search bar of the internet. "Nasty sons of bitches, these things are." Dean whispered, looking for more information he could scrape up. His father had contacted Dean earlier that day and asked him to do some research for him on Wendigo's. He had found a possible case in Michigan.

His father knew all about Wendigos, but wanted Dean to see if he could find any extra outside info about them that would be useful. He had always carried his notebook with information on the creatures he hunted with him as a resource.

After an hour of searching for more information, he gave up, seeing the same information on every site. He ran a hand through his hair and rubbed his eyes, his head aching from the dim computer light. He stood up and cleaned the area around him. Dirty glasses, strewn paper all over the floor, and medications scattering the floor.

After cleaning up the dirty dishes and throwing away the papers, he glanced at Sam. It'd been a week since the raw head attack. Sam had been drained since. He was still weak and the pain in his head was still the same since.

He'd been asleep for 10 hours today, waking only to take his required medication. Sam hadn't spoken since the shock of the claustrophobia incident happened. He still had after shock.

It was hard watching his brother sleep away half of the day. After a few days of Sam barely ever waking, Dean had taken into depression pills. He felt lonely, weak, and was worried about his baby brother. He, of course, knew that he could always have contacted Bobby or Pastor Jim about his worries and problems, but he didn't want to. It was my fault, I got Sammy into this, I deserve this, Dean thought.

Hot tears began to run down Dean's face. The doctors' report still rang in Dean's head. '_Sammy is a strong boy, he's been fighting very hard. But the odds are just not in his favor. But keep hope, because the lord does, in fact, work in mysterious ways_.'

Sam had been diagnosed with serious head trauma and head contusions. Sam had slept away more than half of his day ever since. Dean gripped the back of his chair with both hands and let his head down. He had given up hope long ago, and was not about to let false hope trickle back into his head. Dean looked to his baby brother, pale, sunken cheeks, and motionless, except for the rise and fall of his chest as he slept.

More tears sprang into Dean's eyes as he was watching his baby brother's life slip away from him, surely, but slowly.

John left for his hunt a few days after Sam was diagnosed, wanting to occupy himself and hoping by the time he got back, that his son was somewhat recovering.

John had also given into depression medication after a few days on the hunt.

Sammy was the only thing that kept their family together. The only thing that kept them linked. Without Sam, they always had fights, argued over small things, and both would come to hate life.

Dean and John were broken.

* * *

Dean was behind the wheel of the Impala, grinning as he replayed the few hours of his previous hunt. He had killed another supernatural being.

His smile faded as he stopped at the red light next to the town cemetery. He ripped his eyes from the road and stared into the cemetery.

He put the Impala into reverse. He knew he had unfinished business to do.

When he got to the cemetery entrance, he put the Impala into park and continued his way on foot. He had his hands in his pocket and kept his eyes down. As he approached it, tears began to run down his face.

He stopped at the marker, looking up.

It read, '_Samuel Winchester, beloved son and brother_.' Dean and John couldn't bring themselves to mark when Sam had died, not wanting to be always reminded of how young Sam was when he died.

Dean bent down and crouched before his brother's grave. Tears were not spilling from his eyes as he stared at his baby brother's grave.

"Hey, Sammy." Dean whispered. It was almost inaudible.

"I uh...I'm sorry I haven't visited at all. Ya know, Dad's always itchin' for a hunt and sends me on hunts." Dean laughed slightly as he said it.

"Sammy…" he whispered. He averted his eyes to the ground, not wanting to stare at his grave any longer. "I'm sorry…I should have protected you. It was my job…and I failed…" he whispered, silent tears flooding down his face.

"I miss you so much, Sammy. It's only been a year, but it's been like 100 to me…" Dean whispered. His phone started to vibrate in his pocket. Dean ignored it until it vibrated again, no doubt his father was trying to contact him.

He pulled out his phone silently and flipped it open. He read the text his father sent him.

"Ohio State, Cali." it said. Dean understood what his father meant, wanting Dean to head there.

His father, as well as Dean, was not coping with Sam's death at all. Dean barely spoke of it and neither did John for that matter. Dean barely ever spoke to his father anymore, keeping silent. His father, on many occasions, sat Dean down and talked about how they needed to communicate more, seeing as Dean had now almost OD'd on depression pills 5 times since Sam's death and had taken to self harm.

His father had walked in on Dean cutting many times, Dean's eyes blank with no emotion as John scooped Dean into his arms into a tight embrace after cleaning up the blood and the wound. John would speak to Dean about cutting, but all Dean ever did was nod. John hadn't heard Dean's voice since Sam's last day alive.

Dean stood up, placing a hand on Sam's grave. "Gotta go, Sammy." He whispered. "I love you, little brother." he whispered, tears running down his face. He took one last look at Sam's grave then turned and walked away.

He climbed back into the Impala. He reached into his pocket and squeezed the only thing he had left of Sam.

The amulet.

He took it off after the funeral and always kept it in his pocket, always embracing it in times of need, frustration, and lust.

He took it out of his pocket and examined it. It was the same as he had remembered it when he first got it from Sam. Perfectly crafted the way it was when he got it. He had taken it off because he hated the constant reminder of Sam that would make him cry.

He smiled down at the amulet. After a few seconds' hesitation, he slipped it on over his head and onto his neck, where it lay at it's home. He smiled down at the amulet where it belonged.

"Thanks, Sammy." he whispered.

He revved the engine of the Impala, turned up the radio, and reversed the Impala. He smiled. _Maybe Sammy wants be to be happy_, Dean thought.

"This one's for you, Sammy." He whispered.

He was on the road again and on his way to a new hunt.

He knew, of course, he would never get over Sam's death. But he would always keep his baby brother in his heart. He vowed from this day on, that he would never again remove the amulet. And he would try and be happy.

_For Sammy._

* * *

**Author's Note; **

**Well, that pretty much wraps this story up. THANK YOU SO MUCH for reading! And sorry for killing Sam off. It was the best way, that i could see, to finish the story off once and for all. I took the epilogue to much thought while writing and i hope you guys like it!**


	15. Real Epilogue

So, sorry about the whole epilogue mix-up. Creative Writing teacher's a bitch and i needed extra credit, and for ec, she had me write the epilogue to this, didn't like my writing until i added Sam's death. Made me post it because it "had" to be to be graded. But this one is the **REAL** epilogue. **NO DEATH.**

**Warning; Fighting between Sam & Dean. Dean & John. (Barely physical)**

* * *

Sam woke drowsily. He saw Dean at his laptop, his face on the keyboard, fast asleep. Sam smiled. _Get some sleep once in a while, why don't ya_, Sam thought.

He went over to his big brother and shook Dean. Dean groaned but only turned his head away from Sam. "Dean, wake up." He said, shaking Dean harder. Dean groaned yet again. "Go away." he mumbled, barely audible. Sam smiled. He knew how to wake Dean up.

Sam went back to the couch, positioned himself in a sleeping position and put his acting to work. He layed so he was facing the opposite way of Dean, not being able to see Dean's reaction. Sam groaned and started to stir, acting as if he'd just woken. After a few moments of Dean showing no motion of waking, Sam groaned louder, this time, causing Dean to pick his head up slightly in confusion.

Sam quickened and deepened his breathe, and groaned louder, making his face seem as if he was in pain. Dean looked at his brother, worry washing over his face. "Sammy?" he asked, picking his head up and stumbling out of his chair, falling off before rushing over to the couch to his brother's side.

Sam laughed slightly at Dean's reaction. Hoping his brother thought the shudder would look as if Sam was crying rather than laughing, he buried his face in the cushion, groaning louder. Dean put his hand on Sam's back, trying to get a reaction from Sam.

"Sammy!" Dean said, worry overtaking his voice. After a few moments of no response, Dean turned his brother with all the effort he had, lifting Sam so he was leaning off the edge of the couch, all of Sam's weight relying on Dean. Sam was surprised at this, taking note in the urgency of Dean's hands.

Once Dean had Sam turned to face him, Sam couldn't help but laugh at his brother's reaction more. Dean looked at his little brother in confusion, watching him laugh. "Sammy, what the…" Dean trailed off.

"Damnit, Sam, don't do that to me!" he yelled, releasing Sam. Sam didn't have time to stop himself, and went headfirst into the ground. He let out a yell as his head collided with the ground, the pain of two weeks ago creeping back into his head.

He stayed on the floor a few more moments, gripping the side of his aching head. Dean had gone to the fridge, angry at his brother for trying to scare him into thinking Sam was hurt.

He dug around for a few seconds for something to eat, but to no avail, stuck to grabbing a glass and filling it with water. He was surprised that Sam had been so quick to stop laughing. He looked around the corner for his brother and in horror, saw his brother on the floor, gripping his head, his ear letting out a few trickles of blood.

He dropped the glass, hearing it shatter to the floor, rushing to Sam's side. He picked up Sam's head to get Sam's eyes locked on his, checking out Sam's head.

Sam was angry. As soon as Dean picked up his head and they had eyes locked, he pushed at his brother's chest, not wanting Dean's protection or help, considering he was the one who caused the damage. "Get away from me, you dick!" Sam yelled, getting up and heading to the bathroom.

Dean was awe struck. He'd only heard Sam cuss on rare occasions and was shocked at his words. He quickly got up and followed Sam to the bathroom. Sam slammed the door in Dean's face, missing his nose by inches, and locked it.

"Sammy." Dean said, trying the door, to only see that it was locked. He leaned his head against the wooden door. "Sammy, open up." Dean said, just loud enough for Sam to hear. Sam stood on the stool in the bathroom and observed his head in the mirror.

Without warning, tears started flooding down Sam's face. He hated fighting with Dean, especially when he knew that Dean was the only thing he could rely on. Also, since the raw head, Sam felt even more scared. "I said go away." Sam said, not being able to hide the pain and tears in his voice.

Dean walked away from the door. He walked into his room, looking for a paper clip. He spotted one by his nightstand and took it, sighing as he went back to the door. "Sammy, I didn't mean to, I didn't know I was supporting all of your weight. Please, open up." he said, giving Sam one more request before making the decision for him.

Dean leaned his ear against the door and could hear faint whimpers. He jammed the paper clip into the lock. He hated when Sam cried, especially when he was the reason. In under a minute, he picked the lock, pushing the door open.

Sam was crouched by the wall, a wash cloth pressed to his ear, his arms wrapped around his knees, and his head buried in his knees, his shoulder bobbing up and down. Dean sighed, walking across the bathroom and sitting beside Sam.

"Sammy-" He started.

Sam instantly wrapped his arms around his brother's waist, still crying.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have called you a dick." He cried. Dean put his arm around his little brother, his heart aching at how broken Sam's voice sounded. "Just, don't leave me, De. Please." He cried into Dean's side.

Dean rubbed circles into his brother's arm, trying to soothe Sam. "Sammy, you know I'd never leave you, man. Never." He said, squeezing Sam's arm in reassurance. They sat on the bathroom floor for a few more minutes until Sam slowly drifted. After Sam was asleep, Dean stood, supporting his brother's weight with his side, still having one arm wrapped around Sam.

He picked Sam up once he was fully standing, carrying him back to the couch. He set Sam down softly, positioning his head on the pillow.

Dean moved Sam's head to peer at his ear, which had swollen a little and was red, but stopped bleeding. Dean let out a sigh of relief that it wasn't worse. Just then, John walked in with their usual Dunkin Donuts breakfast.

He instantly stepped on glass with his shoes as he walked in. He looked down at the floor, his brow furrowing in confusion. "What happened?" he asked, setting down the breakfast on the table. Dean laughed at how serious his father seemed, but stopped when his father's eyes had narrowed at his son in anger.

He straightened up, coughing a little before answering.

"I dropped Sam and he uh, fell. And I didn't know until a few seconds after I got a glass of water and I dropped it on accident. It was my fault. I'm very sorry, sir." He uttered the last two sentences quietly. John nodded his head.

"Pick it up." he said in a rough voice. Dean looked down. "Yes sir." he muttered. Ever since Sam almost getting killed, his father gave Dean the cold shoulder. Even though John assured him that it wasn't his fault after the incident, after taking Sam to the hospital, he found out the Sam had a close brush with death, and ever since, made Dean feel like it was his fault.

John grunted and grabbed his keys. "Have to run to Pastor Jim's for a while. Be back by tomorrow." Dean nodded, knowing that there was no guarantee of his father coming back when he was said to.

John nodded in response, yanking the door open. Before exiting, John turned his head. "Ta-" He started, but Dean cut him off.

"Take care of Sammy." Dean nodded. "Always." Dean said again. John laughed to himself.

Dean narrowed his eyes at his father, hating the judgmental bastard he'd turned into since the raw head attack. It had been two weeks and John still wasn't over it. He watched his father leave, glad to be away from his father for once.

Sam stirred as he heard the door shut and the engine of the Impala going. "Dean?" came a small voice from the couch. Dean whipped his head around to look at Sam, his puppy dog eyes working. Dean was locked into his brother's gaze for a few seconds before snapping his eyes away and grabbing Sam's breakfast and setting it on the table before him.

"Mornin, Samantha." He said, smiling as Sam glared at him. Sam sat up slowly, his head still aching from the fall.

"I heard you and dad.." Sam mumbled, looking down. Dean stared off behind his brother, thinking of what to say. After Dean had said nothing but started on his breakfast, Sam looked up. "Are you two gonna make up?" Sam asked hesitantly.

Dean stopped chewing, swallowed, and wiped his mouth. "Sammy, this thing is between me and dad, alright?" Dean said, trying to make his voice soft. Sam looked at him with the puppy dog eyes again.

"Dean, please…promise you'll make up. For me?" Sam asked, staring into his brother's eyes. Dean couldn't help but feel bad for his little brother. "I promise." Dean mumbled, knowing that now, it was set in stone. Sam smiled.

Dean watched Sam closely as Sam's smile vanished and saw the wince that Sam had tried to hide. He stood, going to the bathroom and grabbing medicine from the cabinet.

Sam sighed, knowing his attempt had failed. "Dean, I'm fine." he sighed. Dean just took out two pills and slid them over to Sam. Sam just stared at Dean.

"Sam, take them." Dean said after a few minutes of staring at each other. Sam crossed his arms, putting on his puppy dog eyes, but took the pills anyway.

Dean smiled at Sam as Sam glared at him again. Dean got up and went into his bedroom, changing his shirt.

"Jerk.." Sam mumbled.

"Bitch!" Dean called out from his bedroom.

Sam smiled.

He knew things would get better.

**End**


End file.
